


untouched and intact

by soulofme



Category: GOT7, K-pop
Genre: M/M, Various AUs, a collection of wips, idk what else to say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-16 11:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18520663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulofme/pseuds/soulofme
Summary: A graveyard of blurbs of markbum fics I'll never finish.Featuring: best friends, a wedding, high school gangsters, and the beach.





	untouched and intact

**.01**

**[boyhood]**

“Stop looking at me like that.”

Mark’s eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t exactly stop. Instead, he drops himself down beside Jaebum, close enough that their shoulders knock together. He pulls his knees to his chest, linking his arms around them, craning his neck back to look at the sky.

“The sun’s out.”

“Why are you here?” Jaebum snaps, irritation running thick and heavy through his veins.

Mark hums softly. “You skipped class.”

“So?”

“ _So_ , I thought something happened.”

Mark looks at him— _again_ —but it’s not the disappointed look he’d had on before. There’s something knowing about it, like he can pinpoint exactly why Jaebum’s hiding out on the roof of the apartment building they’ve both lived in for years, bitching his frustration at the sky, not expecting any kind of response back.

“No,” Jaebum says, but the word feels heavy on his tongue. “Nothing happened.”

Mark scoffs, shaking his head, and for once he’s not passive in his anger. There’s the irritated tick of his jaw, the way he’s grinding his heel down against the concrete like he’s trying to bore a hole through it.

“You need to move on.”

“Fuck you, Mark.” It’s automatic, the words, and Jaebum almost regrets them. _Almost_ , because it gets Mark to stop acting like Jaebum’s problems are _his_ problems.

Mark doesn’t know what he’s talking about, anyway, Jaebum reminds himself viciously. Mark’s never had a girlfriend, never took someone to prom and had them leave right when he’d ducked away to the bathroom. He’d been working up the courage to ask _her_ for weeks, had rehearsed his lines in the shower, making sure he sounded firm yet gentle at the same time, because that’s what _all_ the articles he’d read said to do.

It worked in the end, and Jaebum thought he’d hit the jackpot up until he’d realized that she dipped not long after they arrived. And so he spent the rest of what was supposed to be “the most magical time of his youth” sitting in a corner, glaring at everyone who dared to step foot on the dance floor with their respective dates.

Mark had been sympathetic, at first, but Jaebum figures that was because he hadn’t even gone to prom. Jaebum had tried to get him to, but Mark insisted that he wouldn’t be able to handle the crowds and shitty music. It didn’t take very long for Mark to grow tired of Jaebum moping all over the place.

“I’m serious,” Mark says then, cutting off Jaebum’s train of thought. “She left you. Why would you want her after that?”

“I loved her.”

“No, you didn’t,” Mark says, dismissive, and Jaebum rolls his eyes. “You just thought you did.”

“You don’t even know what it means to be in love, Mark.”

“Says who?” Mark fires back, lightning quick, and Jaebum just freezes.

Because Mark, his best friend since they were in _grade school_ , has been in love. Or is currently in love, and he hasn’t told Jaebum about it.

“Since when?” Jaebum starts, mind going a thousand miles per a second. “Who?”

Mark’s quiet, which isn’t anything new, but now is the absolutely worst time for him to go silent. Jaebum fidgets, about to ask again, but then there’s pressure on the side of his face, fingers digging into his shoulders, and Mark’s lips pressed against his own.

 

 

 

 

**.02**

**[sipping an ocean dry]**

Youngjae’s the first of them to get married.

His new wife is Dutch, Portuguese, Korean, and a dash of Japanese. Youngjae can’t just say she’s multiethnic, oh _no_ , he has to list off each itty bit of her heritage every single time it’s mentioned. It’s cute that he’s so detailed oriented, really, but it makes Mark’s head spin every time he hears it.

The ceremony is beautiful, as all weddings tend to be, and while it isn’t the first wedding Mark’s ever attended, something about it feels sweeter than those that have come before it. Maybe it’s because Youngjae’s been so excited about it from day one, and all of that excitement had made its way to the rest of them.

The night is trickling off to an end. Mark’s spending it watch as Youngjae talks to his parents, waving his arms around excitedly while his wife lingers nearby, smiling wide enough that Mark wonders if her face is going to split right in half.

He’s happy for them, though. They all are. Bambam and Yugyeom had ended up crying, which made Jackson cry, which made Jinyoung pinch them until they stopped. Even Jaebum had looked a little teary-eyed, but he’d schooled his expression into something neutral when Mark met his eye.

Now, Mark finds Jaebum at the bar, running his pinky over the edge of an empty shot glass. There’s a line of them in front of him, like soldiers standing at attention, awaiting their orders.

Mark sighs and sits on the stool beside Jaebum, jerking his chin towards the glasses when Jaebum looks at him, startled.

“Think you’ve had enough yet?”

“Probably,” Jaebum says, voice low. He turns in his seat, his eyes scanning the slowly thinning crowd. For what, Mark doesn’t know. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Around,” Mark says. He drums his fingers on the bar top, running the words he wants to say through his mind a few times before he speaks. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Jaebum says, tone light, but there’s a guarded expression on his face.

“I don’t know,” Mark says slowly. “Forget it.”

Jaebum pushes the shot glass away, placing his palms on the bar top. Mark traces a thick vein that runs from his middle finger down the back of his hand with his eyes until it disappears beneath the silver watch clasped on his wrist.

“If things were different,” Jaebum begins, hesitantly, which makes Mark stiffen. Jaebum’s usually so sure, so certain of what steps he wants to take next. “Would that be us?”

It doesn’t take long for Mark to figure out what he’s trying to say.

“Maybe.”

“That’s not a yes, Mark,” Jaebum points out, eyebrows furrowing, and Mark chews at the inside of his cheek.

“If things were different, then _maybe_ ,” he repeats, and Jaebum sighs.

“Okay,” he finally says, and when he orders another shot Mark tries not to flinch.

 

 

 

**.03**

**[assassination of a high school gangster]**

The new kid shows up smack-dab in the middle of the week. It’s Wednesday, and it’s been raining on and off all day, the sun peeking out at random intervals like it can’t decide if it wants to stay out or not.

There’s no dramatic fanfare, no hushed whispers from Jaebum’s fellow classmates. The kid introduces himself as Mark Tuan from Los Angeles, which is the only thing that makes him somewhat interesting.

Dr. Son puts him in front of Jaebum and diagonal to Jinyoung, who Jaebum watches analyze the new kid like he’s planning how he’s going to gut the poor sucker.

And for one horrific, short second, Jaebum thinks there’s something almost captivating about Mark. He’s pretty in a way most boys usually aren't, and the realization makes Jaebum feel a little dizzy, a little like he’s edging into forbidden territory.

“Hey, I’m Mark. Nice to meet you.”

His Korean is passable, mechanical and awkward as it is. Jaebum silently commends his effort.

“I’m Jinyoung, and that’s Jaebum. Nice to meet you, too,” Jinyoung says, smiling with all his teeth, and Jaebum’s blood turns to ice. He knows what the look means, what the words behind that effortless grin are, but the new kid has no clue.

A few days later, Jaebum walks into the bathroom and Mark’s hunched over the sink, frantically scrubbing a blood stain out of his sweater. He stops when the door slams shut and he sees Jaebum lingering in the doorway.

They have a stare-off that lasts about ten seconds before Mark shuts the tap off, curling his hands tight around his sweater. Jaebum slides his hands into his pockets and rocks lightly on his heels.

“You’re not the first. Probably won’t be the last.”

Mark’s head snaps up when his hears that, eyes blown all wide and scared. A sick, sick part of Jaebum likes the look on him, likes how he looks a lot like a deer in the headlights. Bambi, maybe. It's cute, if Jaebum's really going to use  _that_ word.

“Why?” he asks, voice cracking on the word.

“Hell if I know.”

A beat of silence passes.

“How do I make it stop?”

“You don’t,” Jaebum tells him.

It shouldn’t surprise him, really, when Mark walks over to him and Jinyoung during lunch, hands clenched into fists at his side.

“Can I join you?” he asks.

Jinyoung watches him, chewing slowly, and Jaebum finds himself looking between to two. Jinyoung nods slowly, waving a hand at the empty chair in front of them.

Mark sits down, twisting his fingers in the hem of his shirt, and Jaebum pushes his unopened water bottle towards him.

“Thank you,” Mark says quietly.

Jinyoung finishes his meal, giving Jaebum a pointed look as he leaves, and Mark watches him until he’s gone. He’s still staring at the door Jinyoung’s disappeared through when Jaebum says:

“Are you crazy?”

The words tumble out without any conscious effort on his part. Mark’s looking at him like he can’t believe Jaebum’s just said that, but Jaebum doesn’t have time to look at that stupid, dopey look on his face. He’s fuming, clenching his jaw, and he shakes his head and sits back in his seat.

“You’re a goddamn idiot.”

“You said it wouldn’t stop,” Mark reminds him, cautiously, like he thinks Jaebum will suddenly lunge across the table and sock him. “Will this help?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Because you’re friends with him, aren’t you?”

“Jinyoung and I,” Jaebum starts, but falters, and he glares a hole through the table so he doesn’t have to see the sympathetic expression on Mark’s face. “Jinyoung and I aren’t _friends_.”

“Then why do you stay?”

 _Because I don’t have anyone else. Because I don’t know how to say no_.

Jaebum doesn’t say that, of course. He stays quiet, arms crossed over his chest, praying that Mark will get tired and walk away.

He doesn’t. He stays until lunch is over, until his water bottle is empty and the rest of their classmates start filing out of the dining hall.

“Don’t piss him off,” Jaebum tells Mark as he stands to leave.

“Okay,” Mark says, smiling wide and _pretty_ , and Jaebum thinks distantly that it shouldn’t affect him as much as it does.

 

 

 

**.04**

**[sun tapes.mp3]**

The waves crash against the shore, ruining the sentence Jaebum had carved into the sand. Something about eternal youth and "fuck it all", if Mark remembers correctly. Mark turns to see his reaction, but he’s lying on the beach towel, sunglasses on and arms folded beneath his head. From here, Mark can't tell if he's awake or not.

Mark crouches down and digs through the moist sand for a seashell. He finds one, pearl white and sun warm, and he cradles it in his hand like it’s the most precious thing he’ll ever hold.

The sand squishes beneath his feet as he makes his way back to the beach towel. Here, the sand is dry, and it almost hurts when it scrapes against his skin. He plops himself down on the towel beside Jaebum’s legs, squinting as he watches the sun begin to rise in the horizon.

“Found anything good?” Jaebum asks, voice slow and groggy. He had been asleep, then.

“A shell,” Mark answers, handing it to him.

Jaebum pushes his sunglasses to the top of his head and props himself up on an elbow. He rubs his thumb over the rounded edge of the shell before he sets it down carefully on the sand.

“Jaebum.”

“Hm?”

“We can’t stay here forever,” Mark says.

Jaebum doesn’t react for a moment, and Mark wonders if he even heard him at all. He opens his mouth to repeat himself when Jaebum sighs and flops back against the towel.

“But we don’t have to leave yet.”

“Jaebum,” Mark says again, ignoring how Jaebum rolls his eyes like a petulant child.

“Why do you even want to go back, Mark?”

“Because we can’t stay here,” he answers, shaking his head. “You can’t run away just because things got difficult.”

“That’s not why I ran,” Jaebum says, sharply, and Mark sinks in on himself.

“Nothing’s going to change by doing this,” Mark says. “You’ll still have to leave.”

Jaebum goes quiet, and Mark wonders if he’s finally gotten through to him.

“I know,” he says, so softly that Mark nearly misses it. “But we don’t have to leave _right now_ , do we?”

And there’s something about the way he says it, so small and vulnerable, something Mark hardly hears coming from him, that has him curling up beside Jaebum, pressing his face into the sun-warm skin of his neck.

“No,” he mumbles. “Not yet.”

 


End file.
